Crow Creation Story

NATIVE AMERICAN

CROW CREATION STORY

NATIONAL MYTHOLOGY EXAM FEATURE STORY 2019

The Crow Nation is a federally recognized tribe. The Crow call themselves Apsaalooke, which translates into English as “children of the large-beaked bird.” There are about 11,000 members of the Crow Nation today. About two-thirds of the members live on the Crow Indian Reservation in Montana.

The Crow, like many other Native American tribes, have a tradition of storytelling. The stories are more than entertainment, they are a method of teaching and a means of remembering. These stories are sacred testaments to Crow history, beliefs, ethics, and traditions. Young members of the tribe learn the expectations of Apsaalooke culture, as well as Apsaalooke history and beliefs. Stories connect the listeners to their Crow ancestors. Since the stories are often retold, a Crow will hear the story many times throughout his life. Though the stories may vary slightly from storyteller to storyteller, Apsaalooke values and ethics remain.

At one time, the Crow Nation comprised 38 million acres. Treaties, which the Crow were forced to accept, shrunk the 38 million acres to 2.2 million acres. Yet the loss of the land could not compare with the loss of the Crow children. Through the early 1900’s, the youngest of the tribe were sent to distant boarding schools in which they were forbidden to speak their language and were forced to assimilate into white American culture. Yet the Crow stories remained - storytelling preserved a homeland for the nation.

It is with utmost respect that the National Mythology Exam has decided to spotlight the Crow creation story. The story has many variations, and we hope that the story which follows does honor to the Apsaalooke and their stories.

Crow beadwork in Ninepipes Museum of Early Montana By Djembayz, shared under CC License.

Long before my grandmother’s grandmother felt the warmth of the golden rays, there was only Old Man and water. The story told by my grandmother’s grandmother says that in the beginning Old Man was lonely for there was only water, and he did not yet know the ducks. He wanted land for he knew land would bring life and company, but the water was slow and deep. It was too deep for Old Man to see through or even fathom its depths. One day, Old Man heard voices drifting across the endless current, and he saw dark shapes on the blue surface.

A fluttering voice came to him, “‘There is only water, and we are alone with the water.”

“I am here,” Old Man called, “I am here!” At last, Old Man met the red- eyed ducks. Some say there were two ducks, but my grandmother’s grandmother says there were four ducks.

“Hello, Brother Duck,” Old Man called to the oldest and largest duck, a red-headed mallard. The mallard’s eye, red as his smooth head, beamed.

“Brother Duck, dive deep into the water. Bring back earth, and from the earth we will bring forth life.” With Old Man’s encouragement, the mallard disappeared beneath the water, and Old Man waited. The longer he waited, the more his desire for earth grew. The other ducks began to become frightened when the mallard did not return.

“Old Man,” they cried, “our brother has been gone too long. We fear he has drowned.”

“No,” Old Man reassured them, “Your brother still swims. He has not been gone long enough to reach the bottom. He must reach the bottom, or he will not obtain earth.”

Eventually the red-headed mallard returned, and Old Man called with hope, “My brother, did you get anything?”

“Old Man, I have failed,” The mallard confessed to Old Man.

Old Man was disappointed, but he turned with hope to the second duck, a pintail. The pintail was smaller than the red-headed mallard, but larger than the remaining ducks.

“Brother Duck,” Old Man called to the pintail duck. “Brother Duck, dive deep into the water. Bring back earth, and from the earth we will bring forth life.” And with this encouragement from Old Man, the pintail duck disappeared beneath the water, and Old Man waited. The longer he waited, the more his desire for earth grew. Again, the other ducks began to become frightened when the pintail did not return.

“Old Man,” they cried, “our brother has been gone too long. We fear he has drowned.”

“No,” Old Man reassured them, “Your brother still swims. He has not been gone long enough to reach the bottom. He must reach the bottom, or he will not obtain earth.”

Eventually the pintail returned, and Old Man called with hope, “My brother, did you get anything?”

“Old Man, I have failed. I saw something in the depth beneath me, but I could not reach it,” the pintail confessed to Old Man.

Old Man was disappointed, but he turned with hope to the third red-eyed duck. The third duck was a little smaller than the pintail. The blue feathers of the third duck were small, and they reflected the light of Old Man.

“Brother Duck,” Old Man called to the blue feathered duck. “Brother Duck, dive deep into the water. Bring back earth, and from the earth we will bring forth life.” The blue duck felt the Old Man’s encouragement and disappeared beneath the water, and Old Man waited. Now he had been waiting a very long time for the earth, and his desire grew even more. The other ducks became frightened when the blue duck did not return.

“Old Man,” they cried, “our brother has been gone too long. We fear he has drowned.”

“No,” Old Man reassured them, “Your brother still swims. He has not been gone long enough to reach the bottom. He must reach the bottom, or he will not obtain earth.”

Eventually the small blue duck returned, and Old Man called with hope, “My brother, did you get anything?”

“Old Man, I have something!” In the blue duck’s webbed foot was a slender shoot of green. “Old Man, I saw the bottom beneath me, but I could not reach it.”

Old Man was disappointed, but he turned to the smallest, a grey red-eyed grebe. The grebe’s dull grey body awkwardly bobbed forward, for his feet were not placed like the feet of the other ducks. His feet were farther back, and his wings were small.

“Brother,” Old Man began. “You are small. You must not exceed your limit...”

But the grey grebe interrupted him, “Old Man, why did you not come to me first? Let me dive deep into the water. I will bring back earth. Then we will bring forth life from the earth.” The grebe shot under the water without waiting for the response of Old Man. Again, Old Man waited and waited and waited. The longer he waited, the more his desire for earth grew. Old Man remembered at last that no undertaking succeeds without four trials.

The grebe was gone longer than the red-headed mallard with the gleaming eye. The grebe was gone longer than the pintail duck. The grebe was gone longer than the duck with blue feathers. Still the Old Man waited.

The other ducks began to become frightened when the grebe did not return.

“Old Man,” they cried, “our brother has been gone too long - longer even than Brother Blue Duck. We fear he has drowned.”

“No,” Old Man reassured them, “Your brother still swims. He has not been gone long enough to reach the bottom. He must reach the bottom, or he will not obtain earth. No undertaking succeeds without four trials.”

Then the grebe surfaced.

“Old Man,” the grebe called as the water rolled off his grey back. The grebe bobbed sideways as he extended his webbed foot. Old Man caught sight of the mud clutched within the grebe’s webbed foot. “I have brought back earth.”

“I waited, but my hope did not dwindle.” Old Man spoke as he stretched out his hand and touched the earth he had long desired. “I remembered,” he continued, “that no undertaking succeeds without four trials. And now, let us bring forth life.”

Old Man grasped the mud and turned to the east. As he moved from the east to the west, he marked a path. It was a path that he would follow daily. Old Man spread the mud over the deep water, and earth’s boundaries were formed. Old Man drew in the still air, bought the mud close, and breathed out warmth and life. From this mud and breath, the Crow people were formed. Neither male nor female was created first. All were Apsaalooke.

At this moment, my grandmother’s grandmother would fall silent and draw in a breath before she continued.

“Though small in number, the Crow remain. The Crow will always remember Old Man, and the Crow will always remain.”

Story retold by Andrea Weiskopf

n.b. All the duck images are in public domain.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bauerle, Phenocia, et al. The Apsaalooke (Crow Indians) of Montana: a Tribal Histories Teacher's Guide. Office of Public Instruction, 2010. Bial, Raymond. The Crow. Marshall Cavendish Benchmark, 2006. “Grant Bulltail, Crow Indian Storyteller ‘Crow Memories of the Greater Yellowstone.’” Jackson Hole Historical Society Museum. Accessed http://jacksonholehistory.org/grant-bulltail-crow-indian- storyteller-crow-memories-of-the-greater-yellowstone-series. Graetz, Rick, and Susie Graetz. Crow Country: Montana’s Crow Tribe of Indians. Billings: Northern Rockies Publishing Company, 2000. Accessed: http://lib.lbhc.edu/index.php?q=node/16. Lowie, Robert Harry. Myths and Traditions of the Crow Indians. University of Nebraska Press, 1993. Montiel, Anya. “The Storyteller's Art: Sharing Timeless Wisdom in Modern Times.” American Indian. 2010, pp. 34–39. “Native American Legends.” First People. www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Legends/OldManattheBeginning- Crow.html. “Native Languages of the Americas: Crow Indian Legends, Myths, and Stories.” www.native- languages.org/crow-legends.htm. “Official Site of the Crow Tribe Executive Branch.” Official Site of the Crow Tribe Executive Branch, www.crow-nsn.gov/.